Author: MIL-OSI Publisher

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jonathan Darling, Professor in Human Geography, Durham University

Amid growing public concern over migration and a political threat from Reform UK, the Labour government has proposed sweeping reforms to the asylum and refugee system. The home secretary, Shabana Mahmood, says the plans will address an “out of control” asylum system.

By restricting the rights of refugees, the proposals aim to make Britain a “less attractive” destination for people who arrive without documentation. But they also risk making an already-bureaucratic system even harder for refugees to navigate – and for an overstretched Home Office to administer.

Central to the proposals are changes to refugees’ rights to settle in the UK. Currently, people who are granted asylum (recognised by the government as refugees) can apply for settled status after five years, giving them a pathway to potential citizenship and a stable future. Under the new plans, the wait to apply for settled status will be extended to 20 years. Refugees would need to reapply to remain in Britain every two and a half years.

The precise conditions for such “earned settlement” are still to come, but these plans indicate that being in work or education will be central.

The potential for family reunification, the route through which refugees can sponsor close family members to join them in Britain, will be restricted to those in work or study and even then reunification is not guaranteed.

These proposals mean that people who have been recognised as needing humanitarian protection will be under constant review. For a Home Office already struggling to manage an application backlog, the addition of a sizeable number of reviews each year will add even further pressure and expense. The Refugee Council estimates that were this policy in place today, it would mean potentially reviewing the status of “1.4 million people between now and 2035” at a cost of £730 million.

For refugees, this change will increase their insecurity and hinder integration. Finding housing, employment and education opportunities are all made harder with insecure status. The emotional burden of that insecurity – two decades of trying to integrate, with the threat of removal hanging over them throughout – is considerable.

A hardline stance on deportation

Mahmood is proposing changes to legal frameworks and the asylum appeals system, to make it easier to remove “failed” asylum seekers. This “hard-headed approach” introduces the possibility of deporting families “who have a safe home country they can return to”.

With Reform UK proposing a widespread deportation programme if elected, the current government risks legitimising the detention and removal of children who may have spent their childhood in the UK.

The question remains of how far a Labour government is willing to go in to order to apply such a policy. Will they (and their voters) be happy to see images of families and young children detained and deported? Will this be seen by ministers as an acceptable cost in order to claim the government has “restored order” to the UK’s borders?

Removing support for asylum seekers

The government is currently legally obligated to support asylum seekers who would otherwise be destitute. This obligation is partly what’s led to the controversial reliance on hotels to house people awaiting a decision on their claims.

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Read more:
How the UK became dependent on asylum hotels

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The government wants to revoke this duty and make it a discretionary “power” of government.

Support and accommodation will be removed from asylum seekers found to have committed a crime, including illegal working. It will also be revoked if asylum seekers refuse to be moved or are found to be “disruptive in accommodation”. It is unclear if the government will want to pursue this path and remove all support from people who cannot legally be removed from the country. Adding to street homelessness is not the sign of an effective policy.

The government will also “require individuals to contribute towards the cost of their asylum support where they have some assets or income”. With ministers adamant that this will not mean confiscating family heirlooms, as was the case in Denmark, the effect of this is likely to be minimal. Very few people fleeing conflict and persecution travel with considerable assets.

A more significant contribution is expected from those with the right to work. The main problem here is that most asylum seekers in Britain are currently denied the right to work, with the exception of those who have been in the asylum system for over 12 months and who fit a limited range of skilled roles. Extending the right to work further would mean a reduced reliance on the state for housing and greater pathways to integration. But this is not part of the proposals.

The message of these proposals is clear – asylum seekers should be docile guests with no right to complain about the conditions of their accommodation (which have been notably horrific) or about the denial of their rights.

Safe and legal routes

The government has restated its commitment to “safe and legal routes” to Britain, and will introduce an annual cap on the number of arrivals. Communities would also have the opportunity to sponsor specific refugees, and there would be a limited route for highly-skilled refugees. Refugees arriving through these routes would have a ten-year path to settled status.

These proposals expand the possibility of safe and legal routes beyond current schemes for groups from Afghanistan, Hong Kong and Ukraine.

They also show a renewed emphasis on refugee sponsorship, making the case that communities should have a say in supporting refugees. In a divisive political climate, this is a positive move that will encourage integration.

But there’s a risk it could operate in place of, rather than alongside, government support to protect the rights of refugees. And that developing more safe and legal routes could be used to justify hardline measures directed towards asylum seekers already in Britain.

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Read more:
Channel crossings: what is a safe and legal route?

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Will it work?

Home Office research has indicated that social networks, language and cultural connections are the most significant factors influencing decisions and that deterrent measures have little effect on number arriving in the UK.

Rising asylum applications are an indication of the unstable world we live in. Seeking to evade responsibilities for supporting refugees will not change that.

Then there are the political challenges to navigate. Will the British public be supportive of the removal of people who have been neighbours and community members for a decade?

As the last Conservative government found, talking tough does not in itself fix the asylum system. It very often exacerbates the failures of the system, distracts attention and drives resentment towards asylum seekers and refugees.

Jonathan Darling receives funding from the Economic and Social Research Council. He is a trustee of the No Accommodation Network.

– ref. UK to overhaul asylum policy – will the new measures work? – https://theconversation.com/uk-to-overhaul-asylum-policy-will-the-new-measures-work-269949

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Andrea Holck, Doctoral Researcher, City St George’s, University of London

Watching a film about dementia is, ordinarily, a sobering activity. We watch someone become imprisoned in the temporal chaos of their mind. We empathise with the family members nobly trying their best to do what’s right. We leave the film in a fog of melancholia, having been reminded of how sad the condition is.

And dementia is sad. But the stories we tell about it need not only be a premature elegy for someone still living. There is more for filmmakers to think about here: when does “the rest of our lives” stop mattering? How do we love those profoundly changed by illness? What is it like when the concept of “now” itself becomes unfamiliar?

Two recent films ask such questions with remarkable imaginative liberty. Instead of falling into well-worn narrative patterns that equate dementia with an inevitable loss of self, they pull at a loose thread in the fabric of that long-entrenched, unhelpful story of tragedy, which has been of disservice for far too long.

A Kind of Madness, from director Christiaan Olwagen, examines how love is redefined when dementia shatters a shared sense of reality. The film follows elderly couple Elna (Sandra Prinsloo) and Dan (Ian Roberts) as they flee from the great obstacle to their joint happiness: residential care.

After breaking Elna out of the care home where she was placed by her adult children, the couple escapes across the South African countryside, Elna reliving the exploits of the rebel bride she once was (and sometimes believes she still is), as Dan tries to save them both from a life flattened by loss.

In one moving scene, Elna insists: “We can start over; it’s never too late.” Dan decides she might just be right. His own reality, overburdened by loss, pales beside Elna’s, a world which, though certainly clouded by confusion and fear, is also filled with beauty, affection, playfulness and the hope in a better future that once defined their love.

While the film does not minimise the horrors dementia brings into family life, it also does not linger there. Instead, it turns toward a deeper question: what do we do with the love we have for someone who faces this illness? A Kind of Madness suggests that a person’s wellbeing may depend as much on how that question is answered as on any form of medical care.

Dementia in Rose of Nevada

A Kind of Madness steers clear of the melancholy dread characteristic of many films about dementia. Rose of Nevada, directed by Mark Jenkin, is steeped in it, but in an entirely new and unsettling way.

A casual viewing of the film might consider dementia thematically peripheral to the central storyline, which follows three Cornish fishermen stranded in 1993, a time-slip three decades past. Yet I would argue that Rose of Nevada is less a tale of supernatural time travel and more about what it really means when someone’s relationship to time is dramatically altered through disease or otherwise.

This theme is embodied by Mrs Richards (Mary Woodvine), an elderly woman seemingly affected by dementia. Mrs Richards’s presence primes the viewer to consider the time-slip not simply as a supernatural phenomenon, but as something profoundly human.

When Nick (George MacKay), a young fisherman, finds himself in what should be his home, but isn’t, he understandably protests: “My name is Nick Dyer! I was born in 1996!” Mrs Richards, appearing as her younger self in 1993, regards him with the same pity that will one day be turned on her.

Through this eerie inversion, which sees a young, healthy fisherman entrenched in the same kind of disorientation that often characterises dementia, Jenkin opens a new avenue for relating to dementia – the uncanny sensation of not knowing where, when or who you are, of being a stranger in once-familiar surroundings.

What makes Jenkin’s new film so unusual is how it takes those experiences and relocates them away from the one character actually suffering from dementia. The young are not treated as outsiders in the same way that the elderly are. Nick and Mrs Richards could not be more different on the surface, but there is a poignant parallel between the two characters.

In showing a young man met with pity as he struggles to assert the basic facts of his identity, the film invites us to set aside our habitual assumptions about dementia and reconsider how we relate to those who live with it. The result is that dementia symptoms are defamiliarised – made strange and unsettling – and a pervasive sense of dread emerges as both characters and audience confront the unsettling possibility that no single, stable reality exists.

Any successful film provides new spaces in which to think about and relate to human experiences. Both A Kind of Madness and Rose of Nevada shift the viewing platform away from the stale master narrative of dementia we know so well, to consider new perspectives.

This is important. How we think about dementia is coloured not only by the stories we see in popular culture, but by the perspectives these stories privilege. These two films are a corrective to a body of cinematic and literary work that has yet to fully recognise the persistent humanity of people living with a disease that renders life non-linear, confounding and painful, but nevertheless resiliently human.

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Andrea Holck does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Films like A Kind of Madness and Rose of Nevada are helping us see dementia differently – https://theconversation.com/films-like-a-kind-of-madness-and-rose-of-nevada-are-helping-us-see-dementia-differently-269124

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Fatema Kawaf, Professor in Digital Marketing, Nottingham Trent University

During the first COVID-19 lockdown, we were both mothers trying to stay sane. Our chats often revolved around nappies, feeding, sleep deprivation and motherhood chaos. Between laughter and exhaustion, cloth nappies kept coming up in conversation.

Just the thought of all that laundry was enough to make us tired. Sure they would help reduce the 4,000–6,000 disposable nappies sent to landfill per child each year, but would they be detrimental to our wellbeing?

Perhaps our initial hesitation stemmed from the prevalent narrative that sustainability means sacrifice. You do something because it’s good for the planet, but that often comes at a cost to you: eat less meat, fly less, buy less stuff. When a sustainable choice feels like a daily sacrifice, it’s no surprise people end up quitting.

Yet something about cloth nappies felt different. As we became familiar with the online community of #ClothBumMums, the tone was refreshingly upbeat. These mums were driven to use cloth nappies because they enjoyed doing so, not because they felt guilty about throwing away reusables. They certainly didn’t appear to be missing the convenience of throwaway nappies. If anything, they radiated happiness and beamed with pride.

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Read more:
Reusable nappies can reduce the environmental footprint of parenting – but only if they’re used with care

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Curious about this, we set out to explore what was going on behind the scenes. Our study captured the daily experiences of 27 mothers using cloth nappies. Over seven days, participants recorded their routines through visual and verbal diaries, followed by group discussions where they reflected on their journey.

Our findings flipped the sacrifice narrative completely. Yes, the early days might be daunting. As one mum told us: “Sometimes it can be quite a lot of work, and I’ve always said that to people, especially in the early days of having a baby … If it’s too much for you and it’s proving detrimental to your mental health, buy a disposable.”

But once parents developed their own systems over time — figuring out routines, storage and washing hacks — a transformation occurred. This was evident during our focus group conversations following the seven-day diary period, when many mums said they had started to find joy and reassurance in the process. “The rest of the house can be absolute chaos, but my nappy box is tidy,” one told us, “and that makes me really, really happy.”

The joy of reusables

Through these stories, we identified the “wellbeing cycle of sustainable engagement”. This pattern starts with initial motivation, followed by a trial-and-error phase when the challenges can temporarily lower wellbeing.

However, once people establish effective routines — the mastery stage — wellbeing spikes significantly. This cycle often ends with advocacy, where parents become champions of the practice, helping others to get started.

Underpinning this process is what we call the “burden–reward paradox”: chores that once felt like a burden, once under control, can become a source of pride and satisfaction. What once looked like inconvenience transforms into a symbol of capability, care and purpose. Another parent told us:

I love it … I like it when there’s a big pile of nappies and they’re all dry enough, and I’m watching TV stuffing them … [I] definitely enjoy the washing of nappies more than I thought I would – definitely a niche hobby, I think.

In the case of cloth nappies at least, our research challenges the sacrifice-based narrative of eco-environmental messaging. Guilt or pressure might encourage people to start making sustainable choices – but only when these choices bring joy, happiness, pride or a sense of purpose are these actions likely to last.

And the environmental benefits are hard to ignore. UK children go through the equivalent of roughly 700 million car miles a year in disposable nappies. Switching to reusables, even for part of the time, can make a real dent in household emissions.

By flipping the sacrifice-based narrative, brands, campaigners and policymakers can be more serious about sustaining long-term green behaviour. Rather than telling people what to give up, show them what they can gain: wellbeing, confidence and community.

The lesson here goes far beyond nappies. As author Isabel Losada writes in The Joyful Environmentalist, sustainability doesn’t have to be grim or guilt-ridden. It can be creative, empowering – even joyful. The #ClothBumMum community illustrates that positive emotions — pride, mastery, connection — can be more powerful motivators than guilt or sacrifice.

So, perhaps it’s time we stop asking people to sacrifice things for the planet — and start showing them how living sustainably can feel good. Cloth nappies may seem like a niche item, but they hold a powerful insight: when sustainability is joyful not duty, everyone wins.

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This article features a reference to a book that has been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on the link and go on to buy something from bookshop.org, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

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The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Cloth nappies can inspire a feelgood factor that is the secret of long-term behaviour change – https://theconversation.com/cloth-nappies-can-inspire-a-feelgood-factor-that-is-the-secret-of-long-term-behaviour-change-266846

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Matthew Alford, Lecturer in the Department of Politics, Languages and International Studies, University of Bath

I went to Moscow this summer on a trip that was as awkward as it was illuminating. I left feeling Russia is not just a changed country, but a separate civilisation.

As one academic I met there explained: “Russia is not a fortress. Maybe as the Soviet Union, it was. But we are very open to the rest of the world – this time it’s the west that has drawn the iron curtain.”

Due to western sanctions over the war in Ukraine, you cannot travel to Russia – or even book travel online – from the UK. Bank cards are useless, you can’t acquire roubles beforehand, and cash has to be converted from US dollars after arrival. For over a week, I did not see a single person from any English-speaking country.

At the border, the queues were split bluntly into “Russians and Belarusians” and “foreigners”, with the latter a crush of 400 or so central Asian migrants. A guard confiscated my passport on arrival and snapped: “Have question? Call embassy”, before shutting a thick steel door on me.

I braced for a diplomatic nightmare before being herded into a corridor, where my phone was scanned and I was eventually allowed to step into Moscow. I encountered no other hostility, except for one man in a cafe a few days later who sneered at me for laughing too loud. “This is Russia, be quiet”, he said.

I was visiting Russia to co-author an article with Uliana Artamonova, an expert in political communications at a research institute in Moscow. Her academic friends were baffled and saddened by the rupture with the west.

“The BBC boycotted Russia”, Artamonova’s colleague lamented. I replied: “Didn’t Russia ban them?” And we both sat in uncertainty. I later found it was a messy mix. Russia passed espionage laws in 2022 and blocked access to BBC services, while Westminster restricted the Russian-backed news channel RT and the BBC paused its own operations there.

Prominent western commentators have long insisted that sanctions could change the course of the war, arguing that the Russian economy will eventually hit the buffers. I saw nothing to indicate this. When I overpaid a taxi driver the equivalent of 50 US dollars, he had no change so simply waved me away, insisting I treat it as a free ride. That would be unimaginable in a precarious economy.

I saw no homelessness, injured veterans or armed police. Moscow felt safe, orderly and technologically advanced – my hotel had a room service robot and local people pay to use the metro through a facial recognition system.

The east-west split feels worse than the cold war. Back then there were cultural and academic exchange programmes, as well as “citizen diplomacy” and sporting events. Quietly turned to dust, too, is almost every nuclear weapons treaty. And the only one remaining between the US and Russia, the strategic arms reduction treaty, is due to expire in early 2026.

“The longer it goes on”, another academic told me, “the worse the rift will become. It has only been four years but already my students are learning Chinese instead of English.” She continued: “From 1991, we tried to play the game. Then there was [western-backed conflict in] Iraq, Libya, Syria, Afghanistan … so our government says, ‘There is no rules-based world order,’ and – bang – we get sanctions. All Russians ask: ‘Why us? Why not Israel? Why not Britain?’”

At a ballet beneath the Kremlin, I wondered if I might finally find traces of the west. I did overhear two English-speaking women and asked if they had family in Moscow. No, they replied – they worked on US soil at the embassy.

Over a traditional meal accompanied by vodka, I discussed the war in Ukraine with more Russian contacts. I asked: “What about the old idea from when we were kids? You know, ‘Violence is never the answer.’”

One of them, a senior manager in an engineering firm, sighed: “I know. I was depressed for eight months after the invasion, but I came to accept it had to be this way.”

“But violence is so unpredictable”, I pushed. “You say Ukraine killed thousands of civilians from 2014 [when Kyiv shelled pro-Russian separatists in the Donbas region of eastern Ukraine]. But even if Russia’s intention was security, hasn’t the result been worse?”

His friend answered, subdued but firm: “Yes, it should have been won quickly. But though the death toll is higher, at least most of those killed now are soldiers, not civilians.”

I asked if westerners are simply mistaken to believe Russia has conspired to murder opponents, or if they think a besieged state has little option. Numerous political opponents in Russia have met suspicious, grisly ends, including opposition leader Alexei Navalny and journalist Anna Politkovskaya.

They replied that these were tiring old points already answered innumerable ways. I reflected that westerners would probably blanch too if accusations were made about “problematic” people in their countries who are popularly considered to have been murdered by the state.

It seems all sides have become accustomed to the deathly chill of a new cold war. I nodded uncertainly at my associates before making my way back to the UK, another aged empire estranged from the continent.

Matthew Alford does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. An east-west divide deeper than the cold war: what I saw on my summer trip to Russia – https://theconversation.com/an-east-west-divide-deeper-than-the-cold-war-what-i-saw-on-my-summer-trip-to-russia-269853

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ellen Ruth Kujawa, Coastal Change Research Fellow, University of Hull; University of Cambridge

Hurricane Melissa devastated Jamaica in late October, killed dozens in Haiti and forced nearly three-quarters of a million Cubans to evacuate. The death toll across the region is still unknown – but Melissa will go down as one of the strongest storms ever recorded.

It also represents a bellwether for a new era of dangerous hurricanes, driven by climate change. These storms are becoming increasingly violent and harder to predict.

Melissa’s devastation may look like a story of wind and water, but it speaks to a broader question of climate justice: who gets access to life-saving information when a storm strikes? Accurate forecasts gave the governments and residents of Jamaica, Haiti and Cuba time to prepare. This was particularly crucial, as Melissa intensified rapidly from a moderate storm to a major hurricane in less than 24 hours.

Climate change is increasing the frequency of such rapidly intensifying storms. It’s also making them harder to predict. So it’s bad news that the Trump administration is cutting funding for the state-run National Weather Service (NWS) and pushing for the privatisation of government agencies.

The potential decrease in forecast quality this foreshadows will not be borne equally. Hurricanes don’t treat all places uniformly – and neither do NWS forecasts. In my research on hurricane forecasting across the Caribbean, I’ve found that these inequalities already shape how different places receive and use lifesaving information.

Puerto Rico

Melissa underlined just how essential high-quality hurricane forecasts are – allowing officials in the Caribbean precious time to prepare for the storm’s arrival. But my research in Puerto Rico shows that the production and distribution of hurricane forecasts in the Caribbean is more complicated – and more entangled with issues of justice – than it might appear.

Over two years of interviews with meteorologists and emergency managers, I found that Puerto Rican decision-makers perceive – with some supporting evidence, including delays in information availability and deferred equipment maintenance – that their island is marginalised in terms of the forecasts it receives.

Meteorology is often framed as an objective science, but it is deeply political, embedded within systems of state power – and my research suggests that Puerto Rico’s second-tier colonial status extends to its access to forecast knowledge.

Puerto Rico’s vulnerability was widely discussed after Hurricane Maria devastated the island in 2017, killing nearly 3,000 people. The island’s vulnerability to hurricanes well known – between 1851 and 2019, nine major hurricanes made landfall in Puerto Rico, the third-highest number of major hurricanes in the Caribbean. Decades of infrastructural neglect, economic austerity and political powerlessness have compounded that vulnerability.

Forecasts are crucial to decision-making in Puerto Rico. They inform evacuations and requests for federal aid, and they help to plan how to protect critical infrastructure. But their usefulness differs from that of mainland forecasts. As one Puerto Rican meteorologist told me: “A perfect forecast for [the continental United States] is between five to ten miles; five to ten miles for us can be disaster or not disaster.”

Puerto Rico’s small size means that even a ten-mile error in a hurricane’s predicted track can be the difference between a near miss and a catastrophic landfall. For Puerto Rico, a track error that barely matters for a continental state can spell the difference between a glancing blow and a direct hit. In other words, what counts as a “perfect forecast” for a mainland state looks very different for a small island.

Inequality in forecasting

But the issues go deeper than this. Puerto Rican meteorologists told me the forecasts they receive are designed primarily to be applicable to the continental US and later adapted for Caribbean islands. One meteorologist told me: “Mostly it’s us here by ourselves.” Many believe the forecasts they receive are inferior to those that their counterparts use in the continental US, and that they receive less institutional support from the NWS.

When people making life-and-death decisions doubt the quality of the data they rely on, the resulting uncertainty has the potential to undermine both their confidence and public trust.

And there is evidence to justify decision-makers’ doubts. Puerto Rico received storm surge maps – maps of likely storm-generated increases in coastal water levels in 2017, several years after the continental US. Hawaii received them at the same time, suggesting the delay stems from island geography rather than territorial status.

Puerto Rico’s on-island radar unit, which failed as Hurricane Maria made landfall, had been flagged for maintenance in 2011, six years before Maria hit. Interviewees suggested to me that the unit would have been repaired or replaced more quickly in the continental US.

These examples suggest that inequality in forecasting isn’t just perceived – it’s demonstrable: from delayed storm-surge maps to neglected radar maintenance. Forecasts may appear objective and technical, but they are inseparable from their political and institutional contexts. Puerto Rico depends on hurricane forecasts but in practice, does not receive the same level of meteorological knowledge as the continental US.

The Trump administration has already proposed cuts and restructuring that would reduce funding for public forecasting and expand the role of private weather firms. This risks prioritising profit over public safety. It’s particularly dangerous in an above-average hurricane season, and seems likely to worsen as the Trump administration continues to push for decreased funding to the NWS.

When political pressure narrows the NWS remit, vulnerable places such as Puerto Rico risk losing the early warnings they depend on. Storms such as Hurricane Melissa and Hurricane Maria test the capacity of governments and institutions to act on forecast knowledge.

But that knowledge is not neutral. Forecasts do more than predict weather – their prioritisation effectively determines whose safety counts most. As hurricanes intensify in the region, the fairness of forecast systems – who they protect, and who they neglect – will become one of the defining questions of climate justice.

Ellen Ruth Kujawa received funding from a Cambridge Trust Scholarship, and grants from the Cambridge Department of Geography, the Worts Traveling Scholars Fund, the Smuts Memorial Fund, and the Mount Holyoke College Alumnae Association.

– ref. As Trump cuts weather forecasting, vulnerable places like Puerto Rico risk losing vital early warnings – https://theconversation.com/as-trump-cuts-weather-forecasting-vulnerable-places-like-puerto-rico-risk-losing-vital-early-warnings-269064

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Daniel Kelly, Senior Lecturer in Biochemistry, Sheffield Hallam University

Pop-up clinics and glossy adverts are selling men a new message: it is time to “check your T” (shorthand for testosterone levels).

The idea is not about treating medical problems but about “optimising” energy, focus and masculinity. With online services offering home blood tests and fast-track access to treatment, testosterone therapy has shifted from specialist medical care to a supposed lifestyle upgrade.

Used appropriately, testosterone therapy can be life-changing. It is prescribed for men who have a medically confirmed deficiency known as hypogonadism, a condition where the body does not produce enough testosterone because the testes or the brain’s hormonal control system are not functioning properly.

This can be caused by injury, infection, genetic problems or chronic illnesses such as obesity and diabetes. When testosterone levels are genuinely low, restoring them can improve mood, sex drive, muscle strength and bone health.

There is also growing research into testosterone’s wider metabolic effects. In men with low testosterone who also have type 2 diabetes, obesity or heart disease, therapy may help improve insulin sensitivity (how effectively the body responds to insulin to regulate blood sugar) as well as fat distribution and blood vessel health.

The testing and diagnosis challenge

Many private “men’s health” and “wellness” clinics promote vague symptoms like tiredness, stress or lack of motivation as possible signs of low testosterone. They encourage men to get tested, at their own expense.

These tests are often done on finger-prick samples rather than on blood drawn from a vein. While finger-prick tests can be quicker and more comfortable, they can also be more prone to error if the sample has not been carefully collected. Venous samples taken by trained staff can be more reliable and provide higher-quality results.

Testosterone levels naturally fluctuate throughout the day, peaking in the early morning and falling later on. That is why doctors recommend testing on two separate mornings, ideally after fasting.

A single, non-fasting test can produce misleadingly high or low results, yet some online providers use just one test before offering expensive treatment packages.

There is no single definition of what counts as “low testosterone”. Reference ranges differ between laboratories, and “normal” varies by age, health and genetics. Some men with lower readings feel perfectly well, while others experience symptoms at the same level.

The body’s response also depends on how sensitive its androgen receptors are (the molecular switches that initiate testosterone’s action inside cells). This means that blood concentration alone does not tell the full story.

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Read more:
Testosterone: why defining a ‘normal’ level is hard to do

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Clinical guidelines stress that diagnosis should combine both symptoms and blood results. Many issues blamed on “low T” (fatigue, poor sleep, loss of motivation, weight gain) can often be linked to stress, depression, or lifestyle factors such as alcohol use and inactivity.

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Read more:
Younger men are turning to testosterone therapy in hopes of boosting mood and muscles – but there are risks of harm

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The myth of optimisation

An increasing number of men are starting testosterone therapy even though their hormone levels are normal, drawn in by promises of greater vitality, sharper focus and improved physical performance.

Raising testosterone levels above about 12 nanomoles per litre – the standard unit used in blood tests – is unlikely to produce further gains in the areas most linked to testosterone deficiency, such as sexual function, energy or mood. Men already in this range who add therapy may expose themselves to side effects with little or no advantage.

And once treatment begins, the body’s natural hormone production slows down, meaning therapy often becomes long-term. Stopping can lead to a temporary withdrawal-like phase, as the body takes time to restart testosterone production.

When prescribed correctly and monitored carefully, testosterone therapy is generally safe. Earlier fears that it increased prostate cancer risk have largely been disproven, and some studies even suggest it may offer protection.

But other research links testosterone therapy to a slightly higher risk of atrial fibrillation – an irregular heartbeat – and blood clots.

The more immediate concerns are about fertility. Testosterone treatment reduces the brain’s signal that tells the testes to produce both testosterone and sperm. Over time this can lead to infertility, sometimes permanently if therapy continues for more than 3-5 years.

In men who still wish to have children, doctors can add drugs called gonadotrophins, which mimic the brain’s natural fertility hormones to keep the testes producing sperm, but these require specialist management.

Testosterone has become cultural shorthand for strength and virility. When testosterone therapy is viewed as a shortcut to confidence or masculinity rather than a treatment for genuine deficiency, it can trap men in a cycle of self-doubt and dependence.

Exposing a gap

Testosterone is a prescription-only drug for a reason. It needs careful diagnosis, regular blood tests and close supervision by specialists trained in hormone medicine. When men rely on online adverts or convenience clinics instead of proper medical assessment, they risk unnecessary treatment.

Many later turn to health services for reassurance, follow-up or to manage side effects of a therapy they may never have needed – a growing trend that is already stretching endocrinology clinics.

Still, the rise of online clinics has exposed a long-standing gap in men’s health. Many men avoid seeing doctors, and true testosterone deficiency often goes undiagnosed. With proper oversight and stronger links to healthcare systems, these services could help raise awareness without promoting unnecessary treatment.

When used correctly, testosterone restores health. Used carelessly, it risks undermining it – for men and for the healthcare system that supports them.

Daniel Kelly does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. What men should know before signing up for testosterone ‘optimisation’ – https://theconversation.com/what-men-should-know-before-signing-up-for-testosterone-optimisation-269558

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Stephen Ryan, Course Director, MA in Songwriting, University of Limerick

The Netflix animated film KPop Demon Hunters has become the most watched film in Netflix history. The all-pervasive musical phenomenon centres on two fictional K-pop bands, Huntr/X and Saja Boys.

If you somehow haven’t yet seen it, think of an anime-inspired version of Star Wars via West Side Story. It’s not the first film to find major success with fictional bands. Here are five movie bands that transcended and overshadowed their celluloid source material to soar into a life of their own.

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Read more:
KPop Demon Hunters gives a glimpse into K-pop culture in South Korea

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1. Spinal Tap

Released in 1984, the This is Spinal Tap mockumentary charted the struggling career of the eponymous heavy metal band. In this, his debut feature, director Rob Reiner both paid homage and satirised the self-importance of preceding rock documentaries and their source material – the bands.

This is Spinal Tap laid the blueprint for appreciation of these type of bands and films for years to come, leaving us with now culturally ingrained scenes such as “these go to eleven” and “he died in a bizarre gardening accident”.

Reiner and his Spinal Tap co-stars and writers went on to make more films in this style, such as the under-appreciated A Mighty Wind (2003). A more gentle type of mockumentary, it pokes fun at the insular folk music scene featuring fictional folky bands such as Mitch and Mickey, and The Folksmen.

2. Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes

Perhaps not the most instantly recognisable name on this list, this band are onscreen in Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope (1977) for little under a minute, but their impact and legacy lives on.

This seven-piece ensemble house band soundtrack the Mos Eisley Cantina scene in George Lucas’ first Star Wars film. The scene itself introduces many weird and wonderful non-human creatures from across the galaxies to the audience for the first time, with the house band performing simultaneously familiar and futuristic swing music.

Prompted by Lucas to try something in the style of Benny Goodman, composer John Williams delivered a piece of music so memorable that the non-existent Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes have been covered multiple times by artists in styles ranging from techno to metal, electro and country.

3. Soggy Bottom Boys

Drawing heavily from Homers’ The Odyssey (complete with a scene stealing Cyclops cameo from John Goodman) the Coen Brothers’s O Brother, Where Art Thou (2000) follows the exploits of three escaped convicts played by George Clooney, John Turturro and Tim Blake Nelson. Along the way, they find themselves in a band called The Soggy Bottom Boys and record the hit song Man Of Constant Sorrow.

In reality, this song was performed for the film by American Bluegrass musician and 14-time Grammy winner Dan Tyminski, with George Clooney and co miming along. Upon it’s release, the ensuing soundtrack to the film produced by T-Bone Burnett, charted at number one in the Billboard 200. The album featured the non-existent Soggy Bottom Boys sitting comfortably alongside the very real Gillian Welch, Norman Blake and Emmylou Harris.

4. Cell Block 4

Another mockumentary, CB4 (1993) sent up the then nascent but wildly popular gangsta rap scene. Co-writer and star Chris Rock took aim at acts like NWA through satirical songs such as Straight out of Locash and Sweat From My Balls, as delivered by the Cell Block 4 band members MC Gusto, Stab Master Arson and Dead Mike.

As a lifelong fan of hip hop music, Rock has always maintained that the film is more of an affectionate tribute as opposed to an all-out satirical skewering. Upon release, the CB4 soundtrack charted highly. CB4 held their own alongside actual big rap names of the day such as Public Enemy, Fu-Schnickens, BDP – and somewhat ironically – MC Ren of NWA.

5. The Commitments

The Commitments blasted onto screens in 1991 seemingly a fully formed musical entity, all sweat, bulging veins and soul power. In reality, director Alan Parker had scoured the streets of Dublin in search of young musicians he felt would suit the look and personalities of the characters from the pages of Roddy Doyle’s novel.

Parker secured the likes of then 16-year-old old Andrew Strong as the bands lead vocalist, Glen Hansard as lead guitarist, Maria Doyle Kennedy, Bronagh Gallagher and Angeline Ball as “The Commitmentettes”, as well as real band The Corrs in a variety of supporting cameo roles.

The film gave us a visceral and often hilarious look at life in a band on the mean streets of “Barrytown”. Crucially, all the songs featured in the film were performed live on set by the musicians and singers, perhaps someway contributing to the enormous success of the accompanying soundtrack album.

Do you have a favourite fictional band that we’ve missed? Let us know in the comments below.

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Stephen Ryan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. The five best fictional bands in film history – https://theconversation.com/the-five-best-fictional-bands-in-film-history-266321

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nazrul Islam, Professor of Business and Associate Director, Centre of FinTech, University of East London

Across the world, workers are increasingly anxious that artificial intelligence (AI) will make their jobs obsolete. But the evidence from research and industry tells a very different story. AI is not taking over the workplace. Instead, it’s quietly reshaping what human work looks like – and what makes people valuable within it.

In my research on how the workforce is being transformed by AI, I found that the most successful organisations are not the ones replacing employees with algorithms, but those redesigning their workplaces to combine human and machine intelligence.

AI excels at routine, repetitive and data-intensive tasks – scanning through thousands of records, scheduling logistics or identifying errors. Yet it still struggles with what we might call “the human edge”. That is, creativity, empathy, judgement and collaboration.

AI systems depend on people to train and evaluate their outputs. My research found that when humans and AI collaborate, productivity rises – but when humans are excluded or fearful, the benefits collapse.

At cloud software company Workday, for example, nearly 60% of employees use AI tools to automate repetitive tasks. But far from reducing headcount, the company found that AI freed people up to focus on the more thoughtful and creative parts of their job, as well as nurturing relationships with clients.

These findings align with my own research, which demonstrates that worker–AI coexistence makes an organisation more resilient than automation alone.

So why are so many workers still afraid? Part of the reason lies in uncertainty. Organisations might implement AI systems without communicating clearly how they will affect jobs or performance evaluation. This lack of clarity breeds fear, rumours and resistance.

My studies show that when companies are transparent about how and why AI is being adopted – and when they involve employees in shaping its use – workers become more confident. They’re even proud of their contribution to “teaching the machines”. But when employees are left in the dark, they tend to hoard information or disengage – the opposite of what innovation requires.

It’s true that AI will disrupt many traditional roles. But the real challenge is not mass unemployment – it’s misalignment, that is, having the wrong skillsets for the AI age. The labour market must evolve faster to match emerging technological realities.

My previous study on AI and the future of work was cited in a US government policy document. In the study, I described a “perpetual race” between human skills and machine capabilities. As AI automates certain functions, workers must continuously develop new abilities to stay relevant.

In effect, this is a strategic opportunity. The workers who thrive in the AI economy will be those who can interpret, guide and collaborate with intelligent systems.

That means companies must take responsibility for reskilling and upskilling. The UN’s Sustainable Development Goal 8 makes it very clear that AI should benefit workers. If AI becomes a permanent treadmill rather than a partnership for shared progress, there is a risk of deepening inequality.

Social mobility in the age of AI

I recently shared research with social mobility experts on how AI can be a catalyst for inclusion – if managed responsibly. By analysing skills rather than titles, AI-enabled hiring platforms can identify talent in overlooked communities – people who may not have formal qualifications but possess the right competencies to succeed.

Yet this promise comes with a warning. If the same systems are trained on biased data, they risk replicating social inequalities at scale. Responsible AI must embed fairness and human oversight from the start.

Ultimately, the companies that will lead the next decade are those that move from a technology-first to a people-and-purpose-first mindset.

That means several things. AI literacy must be embedded at all levels – from frontline staff to executives – so everyone understands how it affects their roles. Organisations should also rethink governance – ensuring oversight, accountability and transparency.

Employers should also invest in hybrid skills for their staff – combining technical competence with creativity, empathy and judgement. And they should encourage experimentation and collaboration.

But what does all this mean for workers?

First, the future belongs to the adaptive, not the automated. Second, emotional and conceptual skills such as leadership and empathy are rising in value. Third, lifelong learning is no longer optional. AI literacy, understanding what these systems can and cannot do, will soon be as fundamental as digital literacy was in the 2000s.

AI is neither our enemy nor our saviour. It reflects the priorities, values and biases of the societies that build it. Responsible innovation means embedding human purpose into every algorithm, dataset and decision process. It means designing workplaces where technology amplifies human potential rather than eroding it.

This is a pivotal moment. Decisions about AI in the next five years will define the following 50 – shaping the kind of workplaces, economies and societies our children inherit. Rather than fearing AI as the enemy of human work, we should embrace it as the next stage in human collaboration.

AI won’t take your job – but someone who knows how to use it just might. The challenge is not to compete with machines, but to co-evolve with them – creating a future of work that is intelligent, inclusive and above all, human.

Nazrul Islam is affiliated with Royal Docks School of Business and Law at the University of East London. He serves in editorial roles for Technological Forecasting and Social Change and IEEE Transactions on Engineering Management. He is member of the Board of Directors of International Association for Management of Technology (IAMOT) and Business and Applied Science Academy of North America (BAASANA), USA.

– ref. AI won’t replace you – but it will redefine what makes you valuable at work – https://theconversation.com/ai-wont-replace-you-but-it-will-redefine-what-makes-you-valuable-at-work-269338

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Andrew J. Green, Lecturer in the Anthropology of Music, King’s College London

LUX, the new album from Spanish singer-songwriter Rosalía, has been critically lauded. But opinion is divided among some commentators on whether it should be considered pop or classical music.

Much of LUX “sounds closer to classical music than it does to anything in the charts”, according to Guardian reviewer Alexis Petridis. Elle magazine describes Lux as “inspired by classical orchestral music and opera – but imbued with influences of pop, electronic, hip-hop, and more”.

And writing in the New York Times, Joshua Barone asks, “How much of the album is really classical music?” before concluding: “At the end of the day, [Rosalía] has made a pop album with a big budget.”

Even given the assumption that we have a very good idea of what (western) classical music “is” or “isn’t” – and we don’t – it isn’t very helpful to think of LUX in these terms.

LUX does prominently feature the London Symphony Orchestra, with arrangements by composer Caroline Shaw. There are two tracks with a particularly strong western classical influence: Mio Christo Piange Diamanti and the album’s lead single Berghain.

But Lux is a long album, which mostly features solidly pop songwriting, with brief, catchy, syncopated melodies and trap-style triplet flows (in which three syllables are sung or rapped over one beat). As on avant-pop classics like Björk’s Vespertine (2001) or Arca’s self-titled album (2017), conventional, appealing melodic songwriting often comes alongside a disposition not to settle.

The tonality implied by the songwriting is sometimes undermined by the orchestration, the rhythm is subtle or submerged, and there’s a fairly complex song structure which means that the listener requires repeat listens to get comfortable.

On an intense and complexly assembled album, it’s best to pick out a relatively straightforward example. One of my favourite moments on LUX is the stripped-down breakdown section about two-and-a-half minutes into La Yugular.

Here the orchestra drops out, and Rosalía sings in triple metre (that is, three beats in a bar) with only kettledrums accompanying her. From here, the music starts to build in pitch and intensity.

Due to the instrumentation, it’s perhaps easy to hear a “classical” sound in this section. But the songwriting fits into what we might expect of pop. The vocal line is divided into syncopated, catchy, brief lines, while the kettledrums often emphasise the off-beat.

Let’s imagine we could switch out the kettledrums, and have electronically generated bass such as 808 bass playing the same line. Let’s say we auto-tune the voice too. With such an arrangement, this section of La Yugular would fit squarely into her 2022 album Motomami (for example, on tracks CUUUUuuuuuute or Saoko).

On Lux, Rosalía frequently uses the kettledrum for lines that, on Motomami, were recorded on electronic bass. The point is that here as elsewhere, focusing too much on the orchestra can get in the way of us noticing continuities between the songwriting on Motomami and Lux.

This is, of course, what we might expect from an album by a mainstream pop songwriter in collaboration with the London Symphony Orchestra. But dig a little deeper and we also ought to start questioning the conceptual distinction between “popular” and “classical”.

Genre distinctions

LUX mostly combines western pop style with Iberian and Latin American influences. There are strains of flamenco throughout the album, most obviously in La Rumba del Perdón and Mundo Nuevo.

LUX constantly hints at a reggaeton influence too. De Madrugá is based on a hemiola rhythm, the rhythmic basis of dozens of popular music traditions across the Iberian and Latin American world.

Finally, Dios Es Un Stalker is particularly ingenious. This song’s rhythm is, in effect, a deconstructed salsa rhythm which opens with only the bass line (so-called “bajo tumbao”). The salsa rhythm is fully put together only in the last 30 seconds, after a climactic key change.

There’s a particularly interesting case in the waltz rhythm played on the guitar in La Perla and the first part of La Yugular. In his review, Petridis focuses on a moment of levity towards the end of the former track: “On the waltz-time La Perla, a particularly dramatic set of strings and brass is followed by the sound of the singer giggling, as if she’s keen to undercut any pretensions.”

Of course, the waltz has its origins in European classical music, which is the association that Petridis is clearly making. But waltzes are also characteristic of multiple genres of Latin American popular music. This is especially the case in northern Mexico, where waltzes are played by música norteña bands, by mariachi groups, by banda ensembles and more.

La Perla places this history into reverse: the track opens with regional Mexican act Yahritza Y Su Esencia playing a Mexican-style waltz rhythm and concludes with the London Symphony Orchestra playing a European-style ballroom waltz. LUX tells us something that Anglophone reviewers often miss: especially when Iberian and Latin American music is in the mix, it’s not quite so easy to separate “classical” and “popular”.

So, the claim that Lux might constitute “classical music” has to end with us questioning quite a few things: the distinction between classical and popular, the exclusion of non-Anglophone music from the stories most often told about popular music and – most importantly – whether anyone really cares anymore whether music “qualifies” as “classical”. LUX deserves to be heard on its own terms, as an ambitious, self-aware and wildly inventive piece of work.

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Andrew J. Green does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Rosalía’s LUX: why the ‘pop-versus-classical’ question misses the point – https://theconversation.com/rosalias-lux-why-the-pop-versus-classical-question-misses-the-point-269743